On the Shoulders of Giants
by Agent Xero
Summary: Post 5x08: 'It's like living this beautiful dream inside a horrible nightmare'. With the tech removed from his head, Peter begins the process of healing, not just his body and his soul, and the search for forgiveness from a woman that was once his everything. [One-Shot Polivia fluff/angst, AU]


**Author's Note: **So, I HUMBLY apologize for leaving you guys in the dark, it's been a rough few months but rest assured I do plan on writing again, especially with 'Poison Trees' and hopefully with 'Crossroads'. This one took me a while, but after finally finding the right music to write with it just fell together. Takes place after 5x08, before 5x09. Not quite cannon, but hey we all miss Polivia time!

I'm giving this one a high T, its not too graphic (you'll see when), so it should be safe for all eyes. If anyone feels differ, please tell me!

I shed many tears writing this one and I love it. I hope you will too! Reviews always appreciate! (and make great Christmas presents!)

* * *

**On the Shoulders of Giants **

_Formerly Harvard Lab  
2036_

The feint smell of melting amber struck Olivia the moment she opened the door to the lab. It was a strange, deceptively sweet smell, reminiscent of caramelized honey with a smoky taste of whiskey- and _hell_, how could she use a glass of that right about now. With Peter listing heavily on her hips she mustered the remaining strength she had and pushed both their battered bodies past the threshold into safety. She could see the blurs of Walter and Astrid as they dug deeper into the amber in hunt of another tape; the labyrinth of tunnels they had created was something truly amazing. She grunted painfully as she felt him lean against what must have been a few broken ribs. Feeling Peter's body weight increase she gave him a small nudge to keep him awake.

"Walter," she called over the hum of the laser, swallowing whatever small cry had tried to escape with her words. The scientist's mottled head turned towards the direction of her voice as the laser hummed lower. Slowly she trudged towards a chair, clutching Peter's arm around her neck, her hand gripping the belt he wore to keep him up. Tugging at his pants she urging him to sit down, helping his body fall with a graceful slump. "Let Walter stitch you up, Peter, then you're going to bed," she whispered sharply, taking his face in her hand as the other kept pressure on the wound on his neck. "Walter," she said, words cut through her chest like a hot knife as he emerged, removing the goggles from his eyes.

Immediately Walter paused, both anger and concern swelled in his face to see not only the sheer exhaustion on Peter's face but the blood that now spread all down his jacket and shirt. "What happened?" he asked, rushing to Peter's side to find the source of the blood that caked his son's skin and hair.

"He removed the device," responded Olivia slowly, opening her free hand to reveal the bloody tech in her hand.

"He did _what?_" Walter blinked widely, staring at Peter's blank face. Immediately he grabbed a pen light and lifted Peter's chin to his, staring into the dark, inky wells of his son's eyes in search of any visible damage. "How?" he asked quietly, staring into Peter's eyes for any sign of life as he blinked against the bright light.

"Knife," Peter muttered. "It sits beneath the skin, at the base of the cranium."

His father huffed in aggravation and stared daggers at his son. Crossing his arms angrily Walter grunted, "Do you understand how _dangerous_ that was, Peter? You could have done more damage! You could have-"

"Walter," Olivia interjected, cutting him off, her voice softening as Peter leaned against her, his eyes shaping into tired, pale half-moons. "Please. Do this another day, he's exhausted."

At her request Walter silenced himself and nodded, leaving quietly to retrieve his kit, muttering inaudible words underneath his breath. Astrid, who had emerged behind Walter, smiled to see Peter. "It's good to have you back," she said, as Peter lifted his heavy head and gave her a small smile. Glancing at Olivia she nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder. She too, looked exhausted and covered in blood Astrid guessed was a combination of hers and Peter's. Squeezing her shoulder she sighed. "Olivia, why don't you get cleaned up, I'll look after him for you."

Olivia nodded in thanks as Astrid moved to prop Peter up. Astrid smiled down at him as Peter gripped her waist, allowing Walter to examine the laceration along his neck. Achy and fatigued he bowed his head against Astrid's shoulder.

"Try not to move, son, I'm just going to numb the area," Walter's words were muffled in his ears as he injected the numbing agent into the wound. Had Peter felt the small pinprick he gave no indication.

Instead he watched as Olivia disappeared into her former office, moving slowly in a silenced pain, clutching her side tightly, closing the door quietly behind her.

* * *

Taking in a deep, thick breath Olivia exhaled slowly allowing the heavy expiration to pass steadily through her lips and disappear into the steamy atmosphere she escaped to. With the adrenaline finally wearing off she felt tired, and her body ached. There wasn't a doubt in her mind she had broken a rib or two during her earlier assault- that was evident enough as Peter leaned against her and pressed against the injured bones. Her cheeks burned and all she tasted was the familiar coppery, metallic blood that had settled in the back of her throat. She gave up trying to fight the fatigue, a tired resolution came as she sighed, standing like a statue underneath the shower. The more she stood the heavier she felt her body become, like a stone sitting below the surface of a waterfall. No matter how much it tried to move, the pressure was everlasting.

Rolling her head from one side to the other she winced as the sudden jolt of pain in her body came and went, pressing her hands against the tile to push it away- to push _everything _away and allow herself to fall into a world that was uniquely hers. Standing within those three walls, with a thin, porous curtain between her and the outside world she once again let her mind go blank and simply escape.

Here there were no Observers. There was no war, no poverty, no destruction, and no despair. Contrary to the black and white world they knew now, her world was bright and colorful, filled with smooth pastels and brilliant watermarks. There were no rainy days- it was summer all year round; warm afternoons gave way to pleasant nights, and where each town was the coast, where rounded, sparkling waves crashed onto silver white beaches. Here, it was just her, Peter, Etta and the rest of the people she called family. Here she could escape to every fantasy she could have ever _dreamed_ of. One afternoon she found herself sitting in the backyard of her parents' house while her father and Peter cooked hamburgers on the grill and chatted about the Red Sox; Ella would be playing with Etta, teaching her how to swing or do a cannonball into the pool. Underneath the canopy Olivia found herself nursing a younger sibling, smiling and chatting with her mother and sister.

Swallowing hard she let silent tears roll down the sides of her cheeks as she pressed her forehead against the tile, a routine she had found to help her grieve.

She often imagined what it would have been like to take Etta to a family barbeque; for her to meet her grandparents, her aunt and the proud cousin she knew Ella would be. She let her imagination run wild with the vision Etta picking out a dress for her high school prom, or holding her baby brother or sister as they were christened into the world; the joy in getting her first car and the comforting late night talks they'd have after Etta and her first boyfriend broke up.

'_When you find the right one, you'll know_,'she would say, cradling her teenage daughter in the crook of her shoulder as they sat perched against a pillow.

Etta would sniff, wiping a line of tears from her face. _'How?'_

Olivia smiled at her answer. _'He'll be someone who drives you mad with aggravation, and yet has a beautiful mystery behind his eyes. He'll be someone you love to hate, and yet hate to love. He'll be someone who can make you feel like the only girl in the world. He'll be someone who will simply take your breath away.'_

She would go on to tell Etta the story of how her and Peter met, and how much of a pain in the ass he was. Olivia would continue telling their story late into the night and could only picture the expressions on Etta's face as she told her about cases they had worked, the antics Walter had done that would drive Astrid up and down a wall, and that no matter how many times her and Peter fought, Olivia was stubborn enough to know she was always right. On the rare occasion she wasn't- well, that'd be a discussion for another day.

When they were done with their mother-daughter talks, she'd find herself wandering slowly down the hallway to their bedroom where Peter would be curled against her pillow. He'd wake upon hearing her enter, moving over once again and taking his place next to her, his arm locked securely around her waist as he'd kiss her good night. Or, she would smile mischievously and they'd make passionate love as their children slept soundly in their beds. She would imaginatively decorate the house at Christmas time, enjoying the anticipation of watching her children wait for Santa, all the while threatening a pre-teen Etta to keep silent while her brothers or sisters would count the days until jingle bells would lull them to sleep.

She'd kiss her kids good night and tuck them in with wishes of peaceful dreams. She would give her children everything she was denied as a child: a safe home, a warm bed, a quiet, little street to play on and the love that only parents can show.

Opening her eyes to the scorching water these images washed away, burned from her memory as her reality came crashing back down in a painful reminder that the world she had was not the world she wanted, she desired, that she simply _longed for_. Many nights she had sat against the cold tile, crying silently until her cheeks were sore and her eyes bloodshot, for the losses she had endured. Rachel and Ella- she had no idea what had happened to them, if they were even alive at all. Now with the loss of her daughter and Peter- it had often become all too much to bear.

Taking in another breath she sighed, running her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes to take herself back to her world- back to the universe she desperately longed for- the one that stayed just beyond the tips of her fingers, teasing her with the slightest touch of reality that dangled helplessly before her.

It wasn't until a cool breath of air scattered itself across her bare shoulders that she knew someone else had stepped into the shower behind her.

**XXXXX**

Peter sighed as he opened the doors to the bathroom slowly in hopes to not startle the woman behind the curtain. He watched silently as the shadowed shape Olivia's hidden body gave. Her elbows propped her head against the tile wall as he heard what he thought to be silent, grieving sobs as her shoulders bobbed up and down. Lifting her head once again he watched her exhale. One by one he removed his clothes, grunting as the stitches in his neck and shoulder pulled- a cruel reminder of the price he paid to exact his worthless revenge. The one person he tried selfishly avenge nearly cost him the one person he still had in his life.

They had a second chance at life, and like clockwork, he had disappointed her once again.

Pulling the curtain open slightly he stepped into the steam of the shower, watching as Olivia pulled her fingers through her hair, the goose bumps rising over her shoulders was evidence enough to announce his presence. A calming familiarity settled in as he closed the curtain and stepped slowly towards her. Had she chosen to acknowledge his presence she didn't make any indication. With inches between them he reached out and took the golden locks she tried to untangle from her hands, watching them slowly fade away and her head bow.

They had done this often before, standing beneath the shower, holding one another to simply unwind. It was a peace they could endure without any interruptions. He swallowed, waiting for her to turn around and tell him to leave, but this anticipated command never came. Slowly he worked from her scalp to the ends of her locks, expertly working out each knot he had found. He said nothing to her in return allowing her to gather her thoughts.

God, they hadn't been this close in years. Peter sighed as he stepped closer to her, pressing his chest against the strong muscles of her back. Feeling Olivia sigh in front of him he let solemn tears flow from his eyes as his fingers danced across the crest of her shoulders and sent goose bumps down her body. He had almost forgotten what she looked like- when she wasn't FBI Agent Dunham, when she wasn't a wanted fugitive to the world around them. Here, before him, was the Olivia he fell in love with all those years ago. The vulnerability was still there, the awkward shyness, and the raw emotion he would only be privileged to see when she allowed him to.

He had forgotten what Olivia _smelled like_, what her soft, smoky voice sounded like, hell what she _tasted _like. His mind had abandoned the feel of her skin or the honey-soft texture of her lips, the sweet scent of her hair after she showered and the loving caress of her hands through his hair. Gently his palms trailed down the side of her arms, stopping to circle his hands around her sore biceps, feeling the fatigue she held conspicuously in her upper body. Resting his chin on her shoulder she let her head tilt back against his as he enclosed his hands on hers, and wrapped his arms around her hips as he exhaled.

Wrapping his arms around her waist he sighed against her skin, breathing her back to memory. They stood together, embraced beneath the hot water, allowing her body to conform to his until it all came flooding back; the strength of her arms, her skin- seamless and smooth, and the curves of her back that fit so well into his chest. Glancing down her body he could see the damage he caused was more than just skin deep. At a tug on her hip she turned and opened her eyes, finding Peter's face mere inches from hers. He stood silent as dozens of emotions stretched across his brow, his eyes, and the crest of his forehead. Even his lips held a tension he could see Olivia trying to place. Circling one arm around her lower back, he cupped her cheek, his eyes reading over the lines in her face.

It had been the first time in what felt like forever since Peter had taken the time to truly gaze upon her. First he noticed her eyes, and the heavy, pinkish purple bags that had formed beneath them. The emerald of her iris had faded to a murky, mossy green, the diamond features he loved had turned pale and cloudy with fatigue and duress. Her cheeks were pale, her lips chapped, and her forehead had an aging crease he hadn't noticed before; the freckle patterns he had memorized over the years were faded against her skin. There were new scars, pink and fresh, that he could not place with an origin or a cause. Resting a hand on her chest he could feel bones scratching against each other; when she breathed, painful and scarring, he breathed too. There was a large bruise over her abdomen and spots of yellow and brown over her arms and legs.

The corner of her mouth was cut, and there were several lacerations that turned into scarred over wounds above her left eye. Raising a single finger he traced the outline of the fresh gash that had been etched into her right cheek, swollen and bruised, he choked back regretful tears. _What happened?_ His fingers questioned as he caressed the purple area around it, feeling the coarseness of the wound, and the raw, reddened flesh that had been exposed.

_It's nothing_ her eyes pleaded back, but even the most discrete wince she could not hide from his eyes, her lips pressing in pain as he hit a sensitive spot both on her face and his heart. _You didn't cause this_.

Peter's eyes swelled, his lips trembled as she shuttered beneath his touch. _Then why do I feel like I have?_ The tears that fell were enough to admit something Olivia knew he never would openly state. An unsettling arousal of guilt blushed across his cheeks as fearful tears streamed down his face, cutting through the grime and blood that laced his features, the same blood that had reflected on every cut and bruise that he found scattered across her body; her chest, her hips, arms and legs had wounds in various stages, easily hidden behind the leather jacket she wore, a visual representation of the storybook injuries Peter had failed to protect her from.

Pursing her lips together tightly Olivia swallowed, wiping a line of tears from his face and softened her expression. _Peter,_ her hands said as she traced his lips, cupping his face in her hands. _Peter, it's alright. None of this is your fault. We're going to be alright._

He let out a gentle sob, burying his face gently into her shoulder and pressed his lips tenderly across her skin. Peter could not bear to watch her slink away in pain- the pain he believed himself to have caused. Leaving a trail of remorseful kisses he made his way up her jaw bone and stopped at the corner of her mouth, pausing in an attempt to head the reddened flesh before him, to take away her pain and make it his own to suffer for as long as he needed to feel redemption.

He leaned closer and kissed her, drinking in every attempt to heal her from the inside out, to revert the scars to nonexistence and wipe away every bump and bruise she had sustained without him. _I'm sorry,_ he whispered against her lips over and over again. _I'm sorry, Olivia._ He pulled her closer, repeating the silent mantra he spoke against her mouth until he felt her mimic his words back.

_I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… _

The reply he received from was not one of pity, or aggravation, or even sorrow for that matter, but of a loving forgiveness, of closure that only she could provide him. It was what rooted him back to reality, to make his realize that his mistakes were simply that… mistakes.

_You're only human, Peter._

Wrapping her gingerly arms around his neck, lips secured onto his, Olivia moved back slowly, pressing her back against the cool tiles and pulled Peter against her, a heart to heart conversation they both desperately needed. Urging Peter along, he followed without a rebuttal, holding her tightly against his chest. He had almost forgotten how well they fit together; it was the way their lips met, the way her shoulders could match against his chest, the perfect alignment their hips found. His arms around her waist gave just enough comfort to support the curve of her back as she moved against him, a fiery passion that had been relit in the silent realm of night.

_I love you_ she kissed back, over his lips, his shoulder, his eyes, his scars, everything that she could imprint her message to and allow to sink deep into his mind.

She forgave him. _Good God_, Peter mused. She _forgave_ him.

_For everything_.

_I love you_ she said again, into his ear, over his neck; placing her hand over his heart she could feel her message sink in as his pulse elevated and his breath hitched in his throat at the mere touch she provided, writing her message over and over and over into his skin, his mind, and his soul- _I love you._

"_Peter_", she breathed against his lips as his body moved, and gazed steadily into his thick, bloodshot eyes. Her jaw matched his as it trembled. She couldn't remember the last time Peter allowed himself to cry in front of her, to allow his body to become overridden with emotion and show his damaged soul for whatever it was worth. The words she wanted to say were lost as he kissed her again and pulled her knee up to his hip, gripping her leg tenderly as he wrapped his arm around her lower back and pulled her into his body.

With his other hand against the wall and Olivia's arms wrapped around his neck her words became clearer in his head. _I love you, God, Peter, I love you._ Kissing her once more he pressed his full body weight against her as she drew in a sharp breath, her fingernails digging into the hardened skin of his back as he moved against her hips.

Secluded from the world, in their own hidden corner they stood, confessing hidden secrets that neither dared say aloud, not in the months since they were separated.

It was here that Peter let his mind go, allowing himself to be lost within the sweet harmonies Olivia's voice created, sighing his name with a lost passion, with a dedicated love he had forgotten. It was here, standing between Olivia's writhing body and the frosted shower curtain that Peter could finally let his mind go.

It was here that he _finally_ found peace.

**XXXXX**

The night around them was pure, unaltered silence. There was no humming of the gates, no rumbling of car engines to awaken them as they slept. Tires did not scrape against gravel, doors did not close and slam shut. Voices did not echo between the stone walls of the building they trusted to keep them hidden. The only sound even remotely audible was the steady, _pitter-patter_ of the rain as it bounced across the small window pane of the basement, the only reliable source of light during the night was the moon, now hidden beneath a blanket of dark clouds that blended in seamlessly with the velvet sky. An icy ambiance fought its way through the fogged window, no bigger than a cinder block, was a pale, cool blue of a dampened street light a few feet away.

It was enough, however, for Olivia to watch the rain fall that created a calming white noise that had allowed for Peter to drift off into a blissful sleep after they made love- and one that he desperately needed. She shivered slightly as he shifted above her, the stubble from his cheek tickling the skin just above her breast as he adjusted his position, shifting to a more comfortable angle closer to her as a small smile spread across her lips. Grabbing the comforter she pulled it around his back, trapping the warmth their bodies created and let herself become lost to the world and simply reminisced.

There were very few things Olivia remembered about her father. She remembered the thicket of brown hair on his head, and the woodsy cologne he used to wear. His back was strong and muscular, especially around Christmas time when it came to put the star on top of the tree. He'd lift her onto his shoulders and she'd reach the top triumphantly as he laughed. His fingertips calloused from the years of guitar playing. On his left bicep there was an Army Ranger tattoo, and on the right a scar from where he was shot during combat years before she was born. Compared to hers, his hands were big and palms wide. Her fists fit perfectly into his. He had a smile that was incredibly addictive, and a laugh that could lighten up even the grumpiest of old ladies. Behind his eyes, _brilliantly_ green eyes held secrets she would only understand as she was older.

He used to tell her stories of the placed he'd been deployed to. Her favorite was the one of the dwarfs and giants, of a famous folk teller from Rome. It was a story of a man named Richard. He was a dwarf from a faraway land, and the only thing he wanted to be was a giant, like the mystical beings her father had told him so much about. He would only become a giant by gaining their trust, and allowed to sit upon their broad shoulders, gaining a few of the world that only the mighty could be privileged to see. The moral behind it, she would discover later, was something she kept locked inside her memories.

To sit on the shoulders of giants was a metaphor for being able to see more than allowed and obtain a full view of the world up from a magnificent height. One would be able to see past the canopy of human existence and see something greater, to see beyond one's own limits and interpretations, and see the world for what it was. It was something her father would always tell her, to see beyond what we wanted to see inside ourselves, and look further beyond our own vision and see the problems that many refused to acknowledge.

He'd always end his story with a chuckle, _"Olive," _his deep, throaty voice would say, _"Just remember, the greater they are the harder they fall."_ At the denial of selfishness, the giants would trip and fall from their gracious view above the Earth. With honestly and integrity, they would stand tall, true and everlasting.

Peter, she knew, was a prime example of this. Before the Observers assumed control, truly, they stood on the shoulders of these magnificent beings. But once their world was lost they fell, and fell hard. For Peter, this was like diving into a pool of concrete from the top of a skyscraper. It was hard to pick himself up, shattered like sugar glass. No matter how one tried to put the pieces back together it would crumble into a thousand pieces more. It was what the Observers wanted. It was what they had achieved- before this small, personal victory.

Her victory, she smiled slightly, slept soundly beside her. Glancing down to where Peter's head rested comfortably on her chest, above her heart, Olivia couldn't help but smile, her fingers lost in the dark forest of his head as she held him close, stroking his hair line, soothing him to sleep.

She sighed, too tired to try and fight sleep any longer, she felt herself drifting off, and lulled by the rain fall steadily outside. Steadily listening to the world and its distant sounds, until she found herself back in the world she longed for, a world she could no longer have.

If only she could return there, just for a day, she mused in her dreams.

_If only…_

* * *

Brookline, Massachusetts  
Winter 2013

It felt unusually cold for February, Peter decided as he wiped a bead of frozen sweat from his brow and closed the garage door behind him; Standing for a moment he let a chilled shutter joust through his body, his muscles begging for warmth, as he shook off the remnants of light snow that had gently floated towards their icy part of Earth. It wasn't just cold; it was that kind of chill that became buried deep within his bones, the kind that could make your skin mottle and your teeth chatter with such force it could break glass; where your lungs would freeze from a simple breath, and your blood needing to defrost so it didn't turn to ice. Truth be told the cold didn't bother him as much as the wind did. It was the kind that blew without resistance, and buried itself in his body, causing a terrible, throbbing ache. Sighing he let the warmth wrap around him and mentally checked the last item off his agenda for the day.

It was one of those rare, once-in-a-decade weekends where the latest catastrophe hadn't interrupted their lives. They could sleep in past nine, enjoy breakfast together, catch up on the latest news, and thrive in time when their life took priority over work. For Olivia, the day consisted of light work- laundry, a bit of cleaning and catching up on the dozens of emails with Rachel. For Peter, well, his honey-do list kept magically growing every time he went into the garage for cup of hot coffee Olivia had set out for him. First it was taking down the lights from the holidays past, which lead to clearing the cement ravine so their driveway would stop flooding when the layers of snow melted during those rare above thirty-degree days. That turned into deicing the driveway in the areas where the water had frozen once again. Stemming from that came to shoveling the excess snow piles, and making a space for the garbage cans next to the mailbox.

Stripping himself of his old work boots, snow-caked jeans, a thermal shirt and his jacket he stepped into the hallway and threw them into the laundry room on top of what he had hoped to be the dirty pile. If not then he'd have to avoid wrath of his still somewhat hormonal, two-month postpartum wife for a few weeks. Then again, he mused, a nice bottle of wine and a home-cooked dinner was enough to get him out of the doghouse. Making his way quietly up the stairs he snuffled his bare feet across the carpet, hearing the soft breath of his infant daughter from the hallway. Sneaking his head past the small crack of the door Peter felt his heart warm instantly. She truly was something of beauty. Her fingers were curled tightly together, her tiny fists balled next to the stuffed bear Ella had bought for her new cousin. Her eyes were squeezed infinitely tight, locking inside the beautiful dreams he imagined she was having.

Passing Henrietta's room he made his way towards their bedroom where, like his daughter he found Olivia asleep, curled tight against her pillow and comfortable in a pair of Peter's sweatpants and a stretched, well-worn MIT shirt she loved so much. He smiled at the position he found her in, sprawled out just enough to reveal the barely visible baby belly she still sported. It was his favorite thing about their pregnancy, the mere fascination that something the size of a watermelon could thrive in such a small frame. Pressing a kiss to her forehead he pulled the comforter over her shoulders, tucking her in. He grinned and slipped quietly into the bathroom to shower.

Stepping beneath the hot water Peter sighed and let his tired shoulders finally relax in an attempt to let lose the knots that had formed from his afternoon work. Rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder he breathed easy, inhaling the warm vapor, trying to defrost himself from the inside out. He felt his cheeks begin to burn from the water as his skin finally relaxed from its constricted state, and no doubt wind burnt. He stood still for a few minutes letting his mind wonder far away from here and into his own tiny world. He had forgotten for a few moments what freedom felt like, what not having to constantly think and react, to not worry about the future they had brought their daughter into.

This, Peter mused, was something he could definitely get used to.

After showering he dried himself and dressed, warmer and happier than he could imagine. Stepping into their bedroom once again he found Olivia still asleep, her hair spread across her pillow and a small smile tacked to her lips. Gently slipping into the bed beside her he removed a small strand of hair from her cheek. He loved to watch her sleep; the tension in her eyes was gone, the straight lines in her body diminished to mere waves, a calm ocean of tranquility that Peter found himself consistently pulled out to sea. Lately she had been sleeping as much as she could. Much like her mother when she was younger, Etta had become something of a night owl, waking her at all hours of the night.

"You're freezing," Olivia muttered into the cotton pillowcase, breathing deep and yawning as she opened one eye to find Peter's grinning face above hers. "_Please_ tell me you wore more layers than what I saw you with," her words were slow, laced with velvet sleep.

Peter chuckled as he took residence on his own pillow, gently cupping her warm cheek. "Well I figured if I got sick you'd have to nurse me back to health, Liv."

Olivia huffed lazily as she spoke, her eyes closing once again, "Don't even think about it. I'm already nursing one person in his house so if you get sick that's all on you, Peter."

He returned her little chuckle and rolled under the covers, sharing the incredible warmth she let off. Snuggling up next to her he pulled her closer, kissing her forehead and inhaled deeply. She smelled of diaper cream and baby lotion, a vast contrast to the usual perfume she wore- the one that smelled of French vanilla and lavender; it was Peter's favorite scent. Despite the paleness of her eyes they emitted jewels, shining in an emerald serenity that four years ago Peter would have doubted that could exist in the life of Olivia Dunham.

"What's for dinner? Your honey-do list had certainly worked up an appetite," Peter muttered.

"Dunno," she shrugged, curling up into the comforter again, "We have chop meat in the fridge that needs to be used and a bottle of wine to finish."

"Spaghetti and meat sauce?" suggested Peter, gaining an approving nod from her. Leaning towards her he kissed her, slow and steady, a silent token of gratitude that needed no words. Over her shoulder a small static cry began to whine from the baby monitor, the tiny red light blinking. "Speaking of dinner," he said against her lips, "Someone's got perfect timing."

Olivia laughed, nibbling his lower lip. "She gave me two hours, so I guess I owe her that."

"I'll get Etta, meet you downstairs?"

Olivia nodded, stretching and headed towards their bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. Following her actions Peter made his way towards the baby's room to find Etta fussing in her crib, squirming from side to side, deciding whether or not to let out a cry. "Hey there," Peter smiled, picking their precious bundle up delicately, curling her into the crook of his shoulder, "Dinner time, kiddo." Pressing a kiss to her soft hair Peter smiled as she cooed in his chest. In the kitchen he found Olivia, pulling a pan from a cabinet and an assorted variety of spices, all while expertly juggled a bag of defrosted meat. "Here you go, Mama, all yours," he said, exchanging Etta for the ingredients Olivia had in her arms.

A broad smile erupted from Olivia's face as she held her daughter in her arms, nuzzling her adorably with tiny kisses, Etta's miniature hands clutching at Olivia's shirt in hungered anticipation. Muttering softly to her daughter, Peter watched with pride as she moved towards the living room and sat down on the couch and began to feed, reclining comfortably into the leather. The con-man, the man who literally traveled between words, who had come from hell and back could have a happy life after all. An angelic daughter, a beautiful wife, a nice home…. he had never pictured something to be this perfect, this absolutely beautiful picture before him was, in simple words, a masterpiece.

He had been reading some articles before Etta was born, some advice columns from fathers and fathers-to-be about being a parent. He had picked up a few tips that he figured would come in handy: read the baby books, give your wife leeway, don't argue when she's hormonal, and enjoy every moment of it, because fatherhood was a precious gift. One author had given the notion of, every day, to think of a word that described a man's wife and child, and to keep that word with you everywhere you went.

_Perfect. Angelic._

Unpacking the meat he glanced up again to see Etta resting comfortably in the crevice of Olivia's elbow, her hands clutching the shirt Olivia pulled towards her shoulder. Whatever Olivia was whispering to their daughter had made Etta's dark eyes go wide, her tiny fingers curl around Olivia's as she spoke soft words.

_Heavenly. Divine. _

Nuzzling the top of the baby's head Olivia chuckled lightly, pressing small kisses to her daughter's skin. Behind her, by the bay door, he could see the snow begin to blow again as Etta fussed in her mother's arms. Switching her around, shameless to do so, she began to feed again. He could see the simple enjoyment of the bond she had created with her daughter, as a mother and child should do.

Breaking the spaghetti Peter smiled to himself.

_Poetic. Untouchable. _

There was nothing that could take this away from him. Nothing. Putting the pot to boil he turned again to watch his beautiful wife with his perfect little soul they had created. With all they had been through together, this was well deserved. It was for that reason alone he thought of one single word to settle deep within his memory. Watching Olivia whisper radiant smiles, Peter could only think of one that made his once-hardened heart swell with joy.

_Mine._

* * *

_Reviews always appreciated. _


End file.
